Pieces of Extraordinary
by wazlib88
Summary: "Before he began to dream, Ron took a mental note of yet another beautiful moment in a life he still wasn't entirely sure he deserved. To some, it may be ordinary; but to him, it was perfect." A collection of family-oriented moments in the lives of the Ron and Hermione Weasley.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I got the idea for the first bit of this while swimming and couldn't help but write it immediately. Then it escalated a bit. So, here's some family-oriented fluff with no coherent plot, because I can. :) Enjoy if you're in the mood for something that will hopefully make you smile!

Also, I have recently read _The Casual Vacancy_ and it was brilliant. If you've read it, please feel free to message me because I am itching to talk about it.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is my hero and I am just the damsel in distress.

* * *

Ron yawned and stretched contentedly as he padded out of master bathroom back into his and Hermione's bedroom. He was not surprised that she was nowhere to be found; in fact, the smell of bacon wafting from downstairs suggested she had already started breakfast. A grin spreading across his face, Ron took his time looking through the wardrobe for a clean t-shirt and trousers. Merlin, how he loved Saturdays.

After finally settling on something comfortable but publicly acceptable, as they were going to Diagon Alley for the kids' school supplies later in the day, Ron trekked down the stairs toward the delightful aromas coming from the kitchen. He smiled to himself when he entered the room to find his wife arranging healthy portions of bacon and eggs onto four plates.

"Morning, love," he greeted her happily, hugging her around the waist with one arm and planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Didn't we already say good morning?" she teased, turning to face him with a twinkle in her eye. It was true - she had given him a rather pleasant wake-up call earlier.

"S'pose so," Ron said mischieviously, giving her waist a squeeze. "Are the kids up?"

"Rose is in the dining room," Hermione replied, handing him two of the plates to carry. "I've called Hugo a few times now; he shouldn't be much longer."

"The boy sleeps like a rock," Ron commented with a chuckle.

"Yes, he takes after you that way," Hermione said, levitating the remaining plates and heading toward the door to the dining room. "When you were his age, anyway."

"Morning, Rosie!" Ron greeted the sleepy-looking sixteen year old as they made their way to the table with the plates.

"Morning, Dad," she yawned in reply. "Have any owls come today?"

"I don't think so," Ron answered bemusedly as Hermione excused herself to give waking Hugo another go. "Why?"

"I'm expecting something from Amy," Rose replied vaguely.

"Right," Ron said, tucking in to his breakfast. "Ready for Diagon Alley today?"

"Yeah, I've got the lists and all," Rose said hesitantly. "But I was going to ask, Dad, if you and Mum would consider putting up half the cost for a new broom?"

"Didn't we just get you a broom two years ago?" Ron asked, frowning slightly.

"Well, yes," Rose reasoned. "But think of it, Dad, it's James and Lucy's _last year_. It's the last time the Gryffindor team'll be just Weasleys and Potters!"

"And that means you need a new broom why?" Ron insisted, though he had already a good idea of what the answer would be.

"Well we've got to win the cup, haven't we?" Rose declared, as though it were obvious.

"Of course you have, and you'll do it on your fourth edition Firebolt," Ron replied, taking an extra large bite of bacon as though to somehow emphasize his point.

"But Dad, I've got half the money for the new model myself!" Rose whined. "It could be my birthday present!"

Ron's interest piqued a bit, but he made a point of sighing reluctantly to keep up appearances. "How much have you got, exactly?"

"Two hundred galleons," Rose said proudly.

Ron nearly spit out his food. "Where the hell did you get that kind of money?" he demanded.

"Helping Uncle George at the shop," Rose replied innocently. "You know I've been working there a few days a week this summer."

"And so he decided to essentially give you a down payment on a racing broom?" Ron asked incredulously, thinking vaguely of how unfair it was that his brother clearly paid his _daughter_ more than he'd ever paid him.

"I'm a good employee," Rose defended. "Anyway, I was thinking, if I could have the new broom, then Hugo could have my old one! His old Nimbus is on its last leg anyway, and then everyone on the team will have _some_ sort of Firebolt, and our chances at the cup will go up exponentially! I've been working with James and Al on strategy already, and-"

"I'll talk to your mother," Ron cut in, "but I'm not making any promises."

"Really? Oh, thank you!" Rose beamed.

"Yeah, well, you best be thankful," Ron scolded, shaking his fork at her. "When I was your age, I had to get by on a Cleansweep, and we still won the cup twice in a row."

"Only because you were the greatest Keeper in Gryffindor history, of course," Rose said knowingly, and Ron chuckled at her blatant attempts to suck up.

They were interrupted then by Rose's owl, Phoebe, who dropped a small parcel on the table in front of her. A grin spread across her face as she opened it eagerly and examined the contents, but Ron was not amused.

"Is that _Witch_ _Weekly_? You actually read that rubbish?" he asked skeptically. He'd always known his daughter to be clever and sensible - she was a lot like Hermione, after all. She was a Prefect and got very good marks, though she admittedly wasn't as studious as her mother had been. Still, she'd never been the type to gossip.

"I'm not a subscriber. I just wanted a copy of this one," Rose replied absentmindedly as she flipped through the pages rapidly, her smile growing as she stopped on one in particular.

Ron craned his neck, curious to see what had so captured his daughter's attention. He could make out a male figure, seemingly clad in the Quidditch uniform of a team he didn't quite recognize. "That bloke looks familiar," he remarked. "Does he play somewhere in England?"

"Bulgaria," Rose said off-handedly, staring dreamily at the picture.

Ron couldn't help it - he laughed out loud.

"It's not funny!" Rose protested. "He's a talented player, that's all!"

"Right," Ron replied, still laughing. "Quite fit, isn't he?"

Rose's cheeks darkened immediately. "Shut up!" she protested as Ron doubled over, completely unable to contain his amusement.

"It's not you," he explained through peals of laughter. "It's just…Bulgaria."

"What's funny about Bulgaria?" Rose snapped. "I hear it's a lovely country, and there's nothing wrong with being cultured!"

"You sound like your mother," Ron said, shaking his head. "Ever heard of Viktor Krum, Rosie?"

"Of course," Rose answered, frowning in confusion. "Caught the Snitch in the '94 World Cup, but his team still lost. Why?"

"You know your mum used to snog him? Til she dumped him for me, that is," Ron remarked, still shaking his head in amusement.

"What?" Rose asked incredulously, her eyes growing comically as she tried to process what she'd just been told. Just then, Hermione came back into the room to take her seat at the table. "Mum, you went out with Viktor Krum?"

"A very long time ago, yes," Hermione said slowly, clearly taken aback by the question. "He was the first boy I kissed, actually. Why do you ask?"

"You snogged _Viktor Krum_?" Rose repeated, her jaw dropping open at the confirmation that Ron hadn't simply been taking the piss.

"Then dumped him," Ron was quick to repeat. "I'm the better kisser, you see."

Rose ignored him. "I can't believe this," she said, leaning back in her seat and looking between her parents, an astonished expression upon her face.

"What brought this about?" Hermione asked curiously, turning her gaze to Ron.

"Rose has got a crush on a Bulgarian Quidditch player," Ron said with a laugh. "She's just like you, see?"

"Oh, hush," Hermione scolded, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

"I didn't know you ever dated other people," Rose said, still glancing from Ron to Hermione with a million unasked questions dancing in her eyes. "You've always said you fell in love at Hogwarts."

"Well, yes, but your father and I didn't start going out until the war was over," Hermione replied. "It took us awhile to get things going."

"We had to grow up a bit first, you see," Ron said wisely.

"Who was your first kiss then, Dad?" Rose asked, looking positively torn between the desire to know and the desire to pretend this conversation had never happened.

"Lavender Brown. Too much tongue," Ron declared emphatically.

"Oh, gross!" Rose groaned, her expression quickly shifting from interested to regretful.

Hermione tutted. "It _was_ rather disgusting. Thankfully you'd refined your technique by the time I got to you."

"Only because I was finally kissing somebody who was good at it," Ron said with a wink and what he thought was a winning smile.

Rose groaned louder and laid her head in her arms. "I didn't want details!" she shrieked.

Ron chuckled, but Hermione apologized immediately. "We're done now, dear."

"You are so embarrassing," Rose moaned as she lifted her head and began to pick at her food again. "Honestly, can't you just…I dunno, be normal and tolerate each other in a weird, passive-aggressive way?"

"It's only been what, nineteen years?" Ron asked Hermione, who nodded. "We've still got awhile before we can't stand each other."

"Your father only does it because he knows it embarrasses you," Hermione explained to Rose.

"And because I love you," Ron added. "And you," he said, turning to grin at Hermione again, who mirrored his expression with a pretty smile of her own.

"Gross," Rose muttered under her breath as she took another bite.

A moment later, Hugo came wandering in to the dining room, looking as though he was still half-asleep as he rubbed at his unruly auburn hair.

"Morning, Hugh!" Ron said brightly. "You didn't give your mum too much trouble waking up, did you?"

Hugo only shot him an exasperated look before he began to eat his helping of bacon, leaving the eggs untouched. "Do you mind if I meet Mark and Maggie for ice cream while we're in town today?" he asked his parents between bites.

"Not at all," Hermione said kindly. The Laven twins were in Hugo's year at school, and Hermione worked with their mother from time to time on international cases. The two families got on very well, though the elder brother, Matthew, reminded Ron a bit of Percy in his Head Boy phase.

"I'm done," Rose said abruptly, standing from the table with her plate in one hand and the magazine in the other. "When are we leaving?"

"In an hour," Hermione called after her as the door to the kitchen closed. "You know, she'd probably have stayed down here a bit longer if you hadn't teased her," she told Ron in an undertone a moment later.

"Rose wants the fifth Firebolt," Ron interrupted. "Says she's saved two hundred galleons working at George's."

"Two hundred?" Hermione asked disbelievingly. "How much as he been paying her?"

"Dunno. I'm going to be having a chat with him," Ron said. "Honestly, no sixteen-year-old needs that kind of money."

"Are you going to get it for her?" Hugo asked interestedly.

"You just want her current broom," Ron dismissed.

"How much would we have to put up for it?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"About half," Ron replied. "It _is_ her seventeenth coming up."

"You're considering it, then?" Hermione asked, though it was more like a statement.

"Only if you're alright with it," Ron said carefully, though they both knew he didn't like saying no to their children. "It's not like we haven't got the money."

It was true; since Hermione had recently risen to head of the DMLE's legal division, and Ron was second in the Auror department only to Harry, their salaries had increased far beyond what they needed to get by, especially now that the children were nearly grown.

"If that's all she wants for her birthday, then I suppose we can," Hermione said slowly. "Provided she's paying the other half, of course. And I swear, this is the last broom we're buying for her. If she wants to go on after Hogwarts, it's on her own galleon."

Hugo pumped his fist in triumph across the table. "I get her Firebolt, then!" he cried jubilantly. "We'll win the cup for sure!"

"It's the last year it'll be all Weasleys and Potters on the team," Ron explained to Hermione.

"We'll have to go for all the games this year, then," Hermione said pleasantly. "Get dressed, Hugo. Your friends won't want to eat ice cream with you if you're wandering around Diagon Alley with morning breath and your pyjamas on."

Hugo scowled momentarily before taking his plate and leaving the room, his eggs still barely touched.

"Thanks for breakfast, love," Ron said once they were alone.

"Of course," Hermione replied, "but it's your turn to cook tomorrow."

Ron groaned. "I'm not good at making breakfast, you know. I should really just stick to dinner."

"Well, we've always got cereal," Hermione teased. "So, Rose has got a crush on a Quidditch player?"

"She says she 'admires his playing,'" Ron said, waggling his eyebrows a bit. "Better than her bringing home an actual boyfriend, don't you think?"

Hermione snorted. "You do realize it won't be much longer, don't you?"

"I'm content to live in ignorance for the time being," Ron quipped.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And the time she went out with that Stephen boy?"

"Well, he seemed like a tosser," Ron dismissed. "Our Rosie's smart, got away soon as she could."

"You know she's been writing to Robert Phillips this summer?" Hermione asked casually, standing and stacking their empty plates.

"Yeah, but they've been friends for ages," Ron replied dismissively.

"So were we," Hermione said, her eyes twinkling again.

Ron sighed heavily. "Least we know Robert's smart. He won't be getting them into trouble."

"Stephen was a Ravenclaw," Hermione pointed out, but Ron pretended not to hear her as he took the plates from her and carried them into the kitchen, setting them to clean themselves magically in the sink.

"Since when are we old enough to have a seventeen-year-old, anyhow?" Ron asked, turning round to face his smiling wife.

"Well, we are in our forties now," Hermione said seriously. "I'm afraid there'll be more gray hairs than we can count before too long."

"Well, that I don't mind as much, so long as we don't become passive-aggressive arseholes," Ron remarked, reaching an arm out toward her.

Hermione stepped into his embrace and sighed contentedly. "To the best of my memory, you _are_ a better kisser than Viktor was, you know."

"Yeah?" Ron smirked.

"Yes, he scowled far too often to do much else with his mouth."

Ron threw his head back in laughter and tightened his grip around her waist. Nineteen years later and he loved her even more than the day he married her, and moments like this reminded him of why that was.

"You're in a good mood this morning," Hermione observed, lifting her head from his chest to look at him.

"S'pose so," Ron said thoughtfully, searching his thoughts for a reason why. Being woken up by Hermione's lips on his neck had certainly set things on the right track, but there was no particular explanation for his happiness - though he saw no reason to question it, either.

"Good," Hermione replied, bouncing up on to her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "It'll be nice to have a day to be together as a family."

"Yeah," Ron said distractedly before leaning in to kiss her softly on the mouth. No matter how many times they'd kissed, it never failed to make him feel the same way he did when he was flying - as though he was soaring high above the earth, where nothing could dare to touch him or bring him down.

She seemed content to kiss him back for awhile - probably since there were no kids around, he reckoned. By the time they broke apart, Ron was quite certain his good mood would last the rest of the day.

"Fucking hell, you're amazing," Ron breathed, pulling her back in for another hug.

Hermione giggled a little, in a way she only did when they were alone. "So are you, though it's no wonder Rose thinks we're embarrassing."

"I think she's exaggerating," Ron admitted. "Course, I never like to think about my parents being a couple, but still…it's sort of nice to know they still love each other."

"Well, yes," Hermione agreed. "But she won't thank us for it yet."

Ron chortled. "Well no, they don't thank us for anything yet. I suppose we were the same."

"We were a bit preoccupied to do the unjustified angst thing properly, though," Hermione reasoned.

"Fair point," Ron acknowledged sagely, rubbing the small of her back as he spoke. "Are you still sore here?"

"A bit," Hermione admitted. "I've got one of those support cushions set up in my chair at work now, though, and that's helped."

"Working shorter hours would help, too," Ron pointed out carefully, knowing this was a touchy spot for her.

"Yes, well, once I've got somebody I trust in the second rung that'll get easier," Hermione said briskly. "We're filling Anderson's position next month."

"So he did resign?"

"Mhm," Hermione sighed as Ron continued to massage her lower back.

"About time," Ron remarked. "Did someone finally tell the old bat it's the twenty-_first_ century?"

Hermione snorted. "He claims he's going travelling, but I think he's just finally got sick of me."

"I hope he winds up stranded someplace in Russia, then," Ron said sincerely.

"Why Russia?"

"I dunno. Big, easy to get lost."

Hermione was visibly determined to keep a straight face - she seemed torn between amusement and the desire to scold him. Eventually, the former won out, and they ended up laughing uncontrollably for a few blissful moments.

"Really?" Hugo announced his presence in the kitchen with an exasperated sigh.

"What?" Ron asked defensively as he and Hermione stepped apart, though he kept an arm around her waist. "I'm just hugging my wife, Hugh, you'll do it someday too."

"I know," Hugo replied shortly. "Anyway, I've only come to ask if either of you knows where my blue shirt has got to."

"Your nice one?" Hermione asked confusedly. "What do you need that for?"

"I wanted to wear it today," Hugo answered, with just the amount of forced nonchalance that made Ron sure it was an act. The blush spreading across his cheeks didn't help his masquerade, either.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but had the tact not to question him. "I think I washed it with your father's work shirts the other day, but it ought to be in your room. I put it straight in your wardrobe; have you checked there?"

Hugo shook his head bashfully and practically ran from the room.

"His blue shirt?" Hermione questioned.

"Bit on the dressy side for Diagon Alley," Ron remarked.

"Maybe there's a girl," Hermione suggested with a smirk. "Though if he's like you in that area too, nothing will happen for another two or three years, will it?"

Ron pulled a face at her, but she was quick to kiss it away. "Let's get ready, shall we?" she suggested when she pulled away.

Just under an hour later, the four Weasleys found themselves Flooing to the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. Ron went last, and when he emerged from the fireplace, still coughing uncomfortably even after forty years of using Floo, they set off onto the main street. After a brief visit to Gringotts to withdraw a sizeable number of galleons, during which a few choice goblins _still_ felt the need to give Ron and Hermione dirty looks despite the pardon they'd been granted nearly twenty-five years previously, they were ready.

"Flourish and Blotts first," Hermione said briskly.

"Only because you've got a list of your own," Ron teased, causing Rose and Hugo to laugh.

He was right; after nearly an hour in the shop, Hermione had just as many books as either of the children. Immediately after they left, Rose began dragging Ron in the direction of Quality Quidditch Supplies, and they parted with Hermione and Hugo, who were content to purchase the rest of the school supplies. As much as Hugo enjoyed playing Quidditch, he wasn't quite as much of a fanatic as Rose was.

"There it is, Dad, there it is!" Rose said excitedly, pointing toward the flashy broomstick prominently displayed in the middle of the shop. "See, four hundred galleons!"

"You aren't asking us for anything again, as long as you live, you got that?" Ron told her half-heartedly, but she wasn't listening. Sighing a little, Ron set off in search of the nearest salesman. Luckily, he ran into Seamus Finnigan after only a moment's search.

"Ron Weasley! Good to see you, good to see you!" Seamus beamed, shaking his hand heartily. "How are Hermione and the kids?"

"They're doing well. How's Layla?" Ron asked, hoping he'd got Seamus' wife's name correct.

"She's well, off at her mum's with Brian. I'm headed out there soon as I get off," Seamus said happily. "What can I do for ya?"

"It seems I've been roped into buying the fifth Firebolt," Ron replied, gesturing toward Rose, who was still staring at the broom with far more admiration than she generally had for anything or anyone, even the fit Bulgarian Quidditch player. "The things we do for our kids, y'know?"

Seamus roared with laughter. "Tell me about it, mate. Brian's barely seven and we're already spoiling him within an inch of his life. The fifth Firebolt, then? The Potters were in here looking at it the other day."

"Doesn't surprise me," Ron said with a chuckle. "I don't suppose Harry let them have it?"

"Nope," Seamus said. "I'm a bit surprised you've caved, to be honest."

"Rosie over there's promised to pay for half of it," Ron replied. "She's been working with George this summer, and it seems he's been a bit generous."

Seamus laughed good-naturedly. "Good man, George. I seem him round from time to time. Is he in today?"

"They're on holiday in France for a week," Ron said, gesturing for Rose to join them. "Rosie, Mr. Finnigan can get us that broom you've got to have."

"Are you as good as your dad was in his day?" Seamus asked Rose as they made their way to the counter.

"Dunno. I play Chaser like Aunt Ginny did," Rose replied, still looking her shoulder at the broom every few seconds.

"Think you'll go professional?" Seamus asked, collecting Rose's money bag and most of the galleons left in Ron's.

"Oh, I don't know if I'm that good," Rose blushed.

"Sure you are, you're just as good as Ginny was," Ron said immediately. "But she's smart too, you see. Can do anything she wants, my Rosie."

"That's how we know she's Hermione's daughter, then," Seamus laughed. "Alright, seems you've got the four hundred. I'll just pop in the back to get you your broom."

Rose hopped up and down in excitement as she thanked Seamus and Ron profusely.

"You'll look great on the pitch if any scouts show up," Ron remarked as they waited. "Really though, not to channel your mum _too _much, but - have you thought much about what you'd like to do after school?" As confident as he was in Rose's abilities, the truth of the matter was that professional Quidditch offered no guarantees.

"Not really," Rose admitted. "I figure I could always work for the Ministry if playing professionally doesn't work out, maybe in the Department of Games and Sports."

"They'd love to have you, I'm sure," Ron encouraged. "Then you could see me and your mum on your lunch breaks."

Rose pulled a face. "Because I don't see enough of you at home, is that it?"

"Well, you might not be living at home by then," Ron pointed out. "And we miss you and Hugh when you're gone, you know."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," Rose quipped, but Ron could see her eyes softening and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She leaned her head against him, and he smiled contently. Sometimes it struck him just how much she was the perfect mix of him and Hermione.

"Here we are," Seamus said, bringing a wrapped parcel out of the back room and presenting it to Rose, who looked positively ecstatic. She practically skipped from the shop as Ron called his goodbyes to Seamus.

"Can I stay at Harry and Ginny's tonight?" Rose asked as they left the shop and headed for Madame Malkin's, where they'd agreed to meet Hermione and Hugo. "I've got so many ideas to talk about with James and Al. Hugh and Lil could help too, actually, then we'd have most of the team there!"

"I don't mind, if it's alright with Harry and Ginny," Ron answered. "I've been meaning to take your mum out sometime soon, anyway."

"Perfect, you can have a date night while we're not around to see it!" Rose beamed.

"What's this about a date night?" came a voice from behind them. Ron and Rose swiveled around to see Hermione. "I see you've got the broom. I just took Hugo to the ice cream place; we finished the shopping a bit early," she explained.

"Rose wants to go to Harry and Ginny's tonight," Ron told her, "to talk Quidditch, so Hugo could go with. We could go out for our anniversary."

"Which was only two months ago," Hermione said with a laugh. "Well, if Harry and Ginny don't mind-"

"I'm sure they don't!" Rose said quickly. "Mind if I go home now and let them know?"

"Alright, but be careful!" Hermione cautioned, though Rose didn't seem to give her a second glance as she raced back to the Leaky. "I do hope she won't try flying to theirs."

"She's not stupid," Ron reasoned with a chuckle. "Though I reckon most of the reason she wants to go is because they're further out from muggles than we are. She'll be able to fly the thing properly out there. I'll be surprised if she waits for Hugo."

"Well, he said he wanted an hour with his friends. Do you mind if we go to look at quills? I've been needing a new one for awhile," Hermione requested hopefully.

Quite frankly, Ron could think of about a thousand things he would rather do, but nineteen years of marriage to the woman formerly called Hermione Granger had taught him that compromise was always the best option. So, he gave her a smile and took her hand, ready to spend the next hour of his life bored out of his mind.

When at last they emerged from Amanuensis Quills, Hermione carrying a bag stocked with enough quills to last a decade, in Ron's opinion, it was already time to collect Hugo. Ron had not been entirely successful in his resolution not to complain about spending an hour shopping for quills of all things, but he had managed to keep himself in Hermione's good graces, and they'd peacefully decided on a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant just a short car ride from home for their dinner date.

"Oh, there's Hugh," Hermione said as they approached the ice cream shop.

Ron only had to look a second longer before he saw his son, who was sitting very close to the mousy-haired Maggie Laven as they shared a bowl of ice cream. Maggie's twin brother, Mark, was nowhere in sight. It didn't take Ron long to figure out what was going on.

"Maybe we ought to give them another moment, Hermione," he suggested, tugging on her hand and steering her to the other side of the street.

"Why's that?" Hermione asked, frowning. "If we want to make it to the restaurant before the dinner rush-"

"Hermione. He's wearing his blue shirt," Ron cut in, a bit surprised that he had to explain this to her at all. She was generally the one that picked up on these sorts of things.

"Yes, but what's-"

"You said there might be a girl," he reminded her pointedly, and the pieces fell together immediately.

"Maggie?" she stage-whispered excitedly, looking back toward the little table they were sharing outside the ice cream shop. "They are sat quite close together, aren't they? Oh, good, I always liked her!"

"Well, calm down, they're only fourteen," Ron remarked, observing as his son graciously offered Maggie the last bite. "No use planning the wedding quite yet."

"Oh, stop it," Hermione scolded. "I'm not that silly; I just think it's sweet. I didn't realize he liked girls yet!"

"Well, you're the one that washes his bed-sheets," Ron pointed out, earning himself a gentle pinch on the arm.

"Don't be vile. Besides, this is different and you know it," Hermione rolled her eyes. "How long do we ought to give them?"

Ron frowned in concentration as he watched Hugo slide even a little closer to Maggie. His lips were moving, but he was clearly stammering rather than really speaking. Still, Maggie's head was tilting, and Hugo's was moving closer-

"He's going to kiss her!" Hermione shrieked excitedly, but Ron clapped a hand gently over her mouth and spun them around. "Let me go, Ron, I can't _see_-"

"That's our _kid_, Hermione, we can't watch that!" Ron exclaimed in disgust.

"Oh, you're just jealous he's managed to get someone to kiss him before his fourth year's even started," Hermione dismissed, wrenching Ron's hand away from her mouth and turning around. "Oh, goodness, they're _still_-"

"Hermione," Ron protested, dragging her back in front of him so that she would look at him. "Give them a moment."

"Yes, I know," Hermione accepted reluctantly. "But it's sweet, don't you think?"

Ron bit his lip, debating. Eventually, he gave in with an almost involuntary smirk. "Are they really still going at it?"

Hermione bounced up to her tiptoes to look over his shoulder. "They're just pulling back now," she confirmed.

"Damn. Good on him," Ron said with a low whistle. "And she doesn't look like she wants to hit him?"

"No, they're holding hands now; that's so lovely," Hermione said, lowering herself back to her normal height and laying a hand over her heart, sentimental in a way she only was when it related to one of their children. "Oh, that was just the perfect first kiss."

"Better than either of ours were, that's for sure," Ron quipped. "I'm not going to lie; I'm a bit jealous."

Hermione laughed. "Even if we'd kissed each other first, we'd probably have knocked our teeth out."

"We never were very lucky back then," Ron agreed. "Think we've given him long enough?"

"I suppose," Hermione said reluctantly. "I don't want to interrupt."

"They'll be back to school in a couple of weeks. Surely Romeo can last til then," Ron said sarcastically, taking Hermione's hand again and crossing back to the other side of the street.

"Actually, Romeo and Juliet could hardly last three days before they killed themselves out of supposed love for each other," Hermione replied matter-of-factly.

"Fantastic," Ron deadpanned. "Oi, Hugo!"

Hugo turned toward the sound of his father's voice, his face so red Ron might have thought he was sunburned. Maggie nearly jumped out of her seat as she dropped Hugo's hand and stammered a greeting.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Maggie said, her expression of feigned innocence enough to make Ron have to stifle a grin.

"Hello, Maggie," Hermione said kindly.

"Where's Mark today?" Ron couldn't help but ask.

"Oh, he's off buying our schoolbooks with Matthew," Maggie explained, not quite meeting Ron's eyes.

"Where's Rose?" Hugo asked, clearly looking for some sort of distraction.

"She's gone home already," Hermione explained. "She's headed off to Harry and Ginny's tonight. You're welcome to go, as well."

"And you can take her old Firebolt, too. We got her the new broom," Ron added.

Hugo grinned broadly as Maggie said, "Oh, that's wonderful! You'll be made Keeper for sure!"

"You're trying out for Keeper this year?" Ron asked excitedly. Hugo had spent his last two years on the team as a Beater.

"James has been thinking of switching some of us around this year," Hugo said bashfully, in what was little more than a mumble. "I've always thought I'd like to try Keeping."

Ron beamed proudly. "It's the best position there is, son! Let me tell you, back in my day-"

"Alright, we'll be on our way before they bore you to death," Hermione told Maggie with a smile. Ron knew that, like Hermione, the younger girl had never been terribly interested in Quidditch unless her friends were playing. "Tell your parents we said hello, dear."

"I will," she promised. Then she turned to Hugo and said, with a small smile. "I'll write to you soon, then?"

"Yeah," he said, a bit dazedly. "We can write."

She gave him a quick hug, not much more than what Ron had seen her give him at the train station when they'd left for the holidays, and then was gone. Hugo's face was redder than ever.

"So how's Maggie?" Ron asked as Hugo stood to join his parents. He did his best to keep the teasing edge out of his voice, but he was fairly certain he wasn't entirely successful.

"She's fine," Hugo answered, just a bit too quickly.

"She's a nice girl, you know," Hermione said encouragingly as they made their way back toward the Leaky. "She's so very sweet and polite."

"Yeah, she's nice," Hugo said dismissively. "Are Rose and I leaving straight away?"

"You can if you want to," Ron answered with a sly grin toward Hermione. It was clear that Hugo was _not_ talking about it, but that didn't stop him from asking, with mock sincerity, "But will Maggie's letter reach you if you aren't at home?"

"Oh, stop it," Hermione scolded half-heartedly, laying a protective hand on Hugo's shoulder. "She's lovely, Hugo, absolutely lovely."

"You saw, didn't you?" he asked, a bit dejectedly.

"I'm sure we don't know what you're talking about," Hermione insisted. "But really, dear, if there had been anything to see, your father and I would have supported it wholeheartedly."

"I definitely want to leave straight away," Hugo muttered.

"You said you're going to try for Keeper, Hugh?" Ron asked, sensing that a subject change was in order. They spent the rest of the short walk talking about Quidditch. Ron was happy to share a few tips with his son, something he didn't often get to do - Hugo had dreams of someday becoming a Healer, and Ron admittedly had little to no knowledge of Potions or Herbology to help him in that area.

Almost as soon as they arrived home, Rose had thrown an overnight bag to Hugo and unceremoniously presented him with her old Firebolt as she admired her new one, which was lying unwrapped on the sitting room floor. After Hugo had thrown his things together, they were off, Rose assuring her parents as they went through the fireplace that she _had_ indeed asked Harry and Ginny first. Ron wasn't sure he believed her, but he figured they'd know soon enough - there was a family lunch at the Burrow the following afternoon.

"House to ourselves tonight, then," Ron said casually as he and Hermione walked upstairs to change for their night out.

"It looks that way. What ever will we do to entertain ourselves?" Hermione asked with feigned innocence.

"Read one of the six dozen books you bought, I reckon," Ron teased, stripping off his t-shirt immediately upon reaching the bedroom and searching through a stack of shirts he normally wore to work under his robes. "What exactly did you buy, anyhow?"

"Oh, the usual - case law studies and what not. And there's been a new book out about transfigurative theory; it sounds quite fascinating, really, _several_ chapters on animal transformations," Hermione explained from across the room, where Ron could hear her redressing.

"Sounds gripping," Ron deadpanned.

"Yes, well, it could have huge implications on the way we assess Animagi," Hermione continued excitedly. "You might find bits of it interesting too, actually; there's a section on concealment and stealth, could be quite useful as far as strategy goes."

Ron's interest piqued somewhat. "Bookmark the good bits for me, would you?"

Hermione laughed kindly. "Of course. I couldn't expect you to read the entire book now, could I?"

"I read," Ron shot back defensively, though there was no real anger in his voice.

"Yes, just not books about transfiguration," Hermione replied. "I'm going to give my hair another go, and then we can head out."

Ron finished buttoning the dress shirt he'd chosen and turned round to face her. She had put on the green sundress that made her tits look perkier than they really were and, much to Ron's chagrin, covered her bare arms with a black cardigan.

"You look great already," Ron said with a warm smile as she adjusted the plait she'd arranged her hair in that morning.

"Okay," Hermione agreed, leaning closer to the mirror to examine her face. "You don't see any wrinkles, do you?"

"No more than I've got, anyway," Ron replied. "Let's go, love, we haven't had a proper meal since breakfast."

A minute later, they found themselves in the car on the way to the muggle restaurant. Hermione had reluctantly let Ron drive. He was really quite good at it now, but she still preferred to do it herself. However, he managed to get them to the restaurant with no incidents of any kind, and they found that they had arrived early enough to be seated immediately.

The waiter knew them from the many times they'd frequented the place over the years and was happy to serve them, so their food came quickly and tasted delicious. They talked about work as they ate; they'd been collaborating a bit on one particular case for the past month or so, and Hermione was just about to take it to trial.

By the time they'd finished their food and Ron had driven them back home, they were quite sick of talking for the time being. Instead, Ron focused on stripping Hermione of the "magic-tits dress," as he called it, and she seemed quite happy to comply.

If kissing was just as great as it had always been, making love had got even better. It was true that it had become more infrequent as the years had gone by, but Ron had quickly learned to value quality over quantity when it came to this aspect of his marriage. He prided himself on the fact that it never got old with them; it was always just as exciting as it had been the first time - only now, they actually had a clue what they were doing.

The kids being gone meant they didn't need to bother redressing afterward, which was another plus. Though it had been years since either Rose or Hugo had burst into their bedroom unannounced, neither Ron nor Hermione particularly felt comfortable sleeping naked while their children were in the house. Tonight, however, they simply curled up together beneath the duvet, continuing to savor the intimacy of their skin-to-skin contact.

"We're good at being married," Ron murmured to Hermione once they'd arranged themselves into a comfortable position, her back pressed up against his chest and one of his arms wrapped around her stomach.

"Perhaps we ought to get a reward," Hermione replied, twisting a little to face him with a smirk on her face.

"Already have," Ron replied sincerely, leaning in to kiss her. His lips ended up somewhere between her nose and her right eye, and she once again produced one of those giggles that only he ever heard.

"That was terribly cheesy," Hermione teased. "Not that I'm surprised, you've been in that sort of a mood all day."

That was true. From time to time Ron was struck, more so than usual, by just how good he had it, and today had been one of those days. He supposed he needed those sort of days to get by, in some ways. There wasn't an hour of his life that went by that he didn't thank the powers that be, whatever they were, for his family, but days like today were the type that stood out from the rest and made the more mundane ones worthwhile.

He was suddenly hit with the urge to thank Hermione - for what, he wasn't sure, but he knew it all came back to her. Still, he seriously doubted his ability to voice something he himself wasn't quite sure how to understand; so, instead, he picked himself up a bit so he could lean over and kiss her softly once more. "I love you," he murmured against her lips before pulling away.

"I love you," Hermione replied in kind, kissing him one more time before he returned to his previous position. They exchanged a few more sweet nothings and slightly-less-than-innocent caresses before they finally began to drift toward sleep. But before Ron dozed off, he finally realized what he'd been trying to articulate before: he was thankful that he had married his best friend.

But she knew this, and he knew this, and that was why they worked so well - they didn't always need the words. So he simply wrapped his arms around her just a little tighter, and she snuggled into him just a little more. Before he began to dream, Ron took a mental note of yet another beautiful moment in a life he still wasn't entirely sure he deserved. To some, it may be ordinary; but to him, it was perfect.

* * *

A/N: So there you have it. No real plot at all and it sort of refused to end, but I'm still rather attached to it. I've also noticed that I end an inordinate amount of my writing with Ron falling asleep thinking about how much he loves Hermione. Sorry not sorry. My mission is not to be a great writer - it is to spread Ron/Hermione joy.

Just as a point of reference for those of you who enjoy my stories - they are all set in the same "universe" as _Firsts and Lasts_. I am working on a multi-chapter that's set outside of that "universe," but that is quite literally the only exception. I don't know if I've ever explained this officially before so here you go.

I am leaving this story marked as "incomplete" for now - I have a few other one-shot ideas that involve teenage!Rose and teenage!Hugo, and I think I may just put them all here to keep them sort of together. I'm sort of undecided about that though, because they're all a bit different. So anyway…that's why it's incomplete. If it sees another chapter or two, it may not be particularly soon.

I hope you enjoyed this rambling expanse of fluff valley. If I have made you smile at least once then I have done what I set out to do. :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Right. Hello. So this one has been on the backburner for awhile now. It's probably been about seven months since I first had this plot bunny, and I have at last got around to writing it! This is set two years after the last chapter and might be a bit less fluffy (and significantly shorter), though I still think it's sweet. :) Just as a point of reference, by the way, this fic will have a total of five installments. This one is more Rose/Hermione-centric, and the next will be Hugo/Ron-centric.

Also, for those of you reading _Take My Hand_ - the next update for that will be coming Wednesday. For those of you not reading _Take My Hand_ - it is Ron/Hermione, so you're welcome to read it if you would like. :) #ShamelessSelfPromotion

Disclaimer: This is my 40th disclaimer and I am still not J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Hermione took a deep breath and blew one of her curls out of her face as she finished folding one of Ron's work shirts. Despite the fact that she'd tied her hair back in an attempt to beat the humidity, her already bushy locks had never responded well to high temperatures, and today was no exception. They had set cooling charms all over the house, but it wasn't enough to keep the heat outside. Hermione supposed she had it better than Ron, who was outside undoubtedly burning to a crisp while mowing the lawn - the muggle way, so that the neighbors wouldn't ask questions. She, meanwhile, had spent all day doing the laundry that had piled up during the week. Having the kids home for the summer meant the load had nearly tripled - how that was so, Hermione wasn't quite sure, but she imagined having a nearly nineteen-year-old daughter had something to do with it.

It was late afternoon by the time Hermione had at last finished washing, drying, sorting, and folding all the clothing. Humming along with the wireless, she summoned four baskets to hold each family member's stack. With a wave of her wand, she levitated the baskets so that they would follow her up the stairs. First, she sent hers and Ron's into the master bedroom, and she set a simple charm so that the clothing would arrange itself in the wardrobe appropriately. Next, she dropped Hugo's in the mess he called a room, but she didn't put it away - he could do that himself when he got back from Maggie's later that evening, and he could clean his room while he was at it.

The door to Rose's bedroom was closed, so Hermione knocked, knowing her daughter had retreated shortly after breakfast to read a new book she'd purchased with part of her very first paycheck from the Department of Magical Games and Sports, where she'd secured a job merely two weeks after graduating from Hogwarts. Though she'd been offered a spot on more than one professional Quidditch team, she'd decided that she would rather play with a recreational league on the weekends. When Hermione had asked why she hadn't pursued playing professionally, Rose's response had been simple: "I still want it to be fun ten years down the road." Even Ron had agreed with this reasoning, though Hermione suspected that partially had to do with the fact that Rose would be home more often than she would otherwise have been.

Rose didn't respond immediately to Hermione's knock, so she cracked the door open a little and peered inside to see the younger girl, whose hair was nearly as wild as her own, curled up in bed, about halfway through the rather thick tome. "Rose?" Hermione called tentatively. "I've got some laundry; do you mind if I come in?"

"Go ahead," Rose replied distractedly. Hermione saw her finish off a page before placing a slip of paper in it to mark her spot and setting it on the bedside table.

"You don't need to stop for my sake," Hermione said, placing the basket on the floor at the foot of Rose's bed.

"That's alright, I've just finished a chapter," Rose dismissed. "It's almost dinnertime anyhow, isn't it?"

"I was just about to start. Does pasta sound good?" Hermione asked.

"Delightful," Rose beamed. "Did you want any help?"

"Well, I won't object if you're willing," Hermione replied, pleasantly surprised.

"I haven't got much else to do," Rose shrugged, though she didn't get up from bed. Hermione frowned a little; she could only just sense it, but it seemed Rose was holding something back.

"You know, you haven't been out much since you've been out of school," Hermione said carefully, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"I went to see Amy last weekend," Rose countered evasively, swinging her legs around so that she was sitting next to Hermione. "Everyone's just a bit busy now, you know."

"Right," Hermione replied doubtfully. "It's just a change, I suppose. And I haven't seen Robert all summer; that's been a bit surprising."

"Oh," Rose said in a tone that screamed forced nonchalance. "Well, you wouldn't have, seeing as we've broken up."

"Oh no," Hermione lamented, wrapping an arm around Rose's shoulders and squeezing gently. "I'm so sorry, love. I didn't know." That wasn't a complete lie; she'd guessed something was off, but she truly hadn't realized her daughter was going through a break up. She attempted to swallow her guilt as she rubbed Rose's shoulders back comfortingly.

"I didn't tell you," Rose said fairly, leaning into her mother's embrace a bit. "It's alright though, Mum, it was my idea."

"Did something happen?" Hermione asked kindly, her curiosity outweighing her reluctance to pry. After all, she wouldn't be able to do a very good job comforting if she didn't know what she was dealing with.

"Nothing in particular," Rose replied simply. Hermione looked at her, searching for some sort of sign; she looked sincere enough, but there was a certain sadness in her eyes. What was curious, though, was the sort of sadness it seemed to be - it wasn't devastated or crushing; rather, it was almost…resigned. Rose flinched a little under Hermione's gaze. "It's really not a big deal."

"You were going out for two years," Hermione pointed out gently. "Even if it was your idea to end it, that's quite a long time to be with somebody."

Rose sighed heavily. "It just wasn't going to work out. I mean…we're adults now, you know, things are different."

"Okay," Hermione said slowly. "But you know that I'll listen if you want to talk about it, don't you?"

"I know," Rose assured her. "I just…there's not much to say, really. He wasn't going to be the one."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "So you'd fallen out of love with him, then?"

"I guess you could say that," Rose replied vaguely, discomfort radiating from her voice. "I couldn't see myself marrying him, at any rate, and if you've been dating somebody for two years, one would think that's where you're meant to be headed."

"One would think," Hermione agreed with a nod. "You're young, though."

"I know," Rose repeated. "Still…there was no point dragging it out any longer."

"Alright," Hermione acknowledged. "Well, I'm proud of you, dear. Breaking up with somebody is never an easy thing to do, but you did what was best for you."

"Thanks, Mum," Rose replied in a small voice.

Hermione gave her a final squeeze round the shoulders. "Why don't we go make that pasta now?"

She had made it halfway to the door when Rose's voice stopped her: "Mum?" Hermione turned around to see that Rose had yet to get off the bed.

"Yes?" Hermione prompted.

"I…never mind," Rose replied quickly, standing up and crossing the room to join Hermione at the door.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brow.

"Yeah. I'm okay," Rose said, and she left the room, leaving Hermione to wonder to what degree she was lying.

They worked on fixing dinner in near silence, though Hermione cast furtive glances toward Rose every chance she got. The younger girl, for her part, seemed intent on avoiding Hermione's gaze. It wasn't until Rose was doling the pasta out into four bowls and Hermione was making the salad that Rose spoke.

"Mum?" she asked tentatively, her gaze fixed on the bowls of pasta.

"Yes, dear?" Hermione asked, keeping her eyes intently on the salad. If this was how Rose wished to talk, then so be it.

"I-I just," Rose broke off a moment to sigh audibly. "Dad is your best friend, isn't he?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione replied bemusedly.

"And he always has been?" Rose continued.

"Since I was twelve," Hermione said promptly. "But you know that, love. I know your dad's been telling you about that troll in the girl's bathroom ever since you knew what he was saying."

"Yeah," Rose replied absentmindedly. "It's just…other than Amy, Robert was mine."

"Your best friend, you mean?" Hermione asked sympathetically. "Honey, I'm sure you still can be-"

"Yes, probably. But that's not the point," Rose interrupted.

"What is the point?" Hermione asked, giving up the pretense of salad fixation and turning to face her daughter, whose cheeks were as red as Ron's face was likely to be after an afternoon in the sun. Rose gave yet another sigh and reluctantly turned to face Hermione.

"I just…I always wanted to be like you and Dad, you know? Because you two…you're so happy that it's gross," Rose explained hesitantly.

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle a little. "You're going to be gross with somebody too, someday."

"But you married your best friend," Rose insisted. "I just…I guess I always thought I would too."

At once, the cause of Rose's discontent clicked into place in Hermione's mind. "And you're only upset about your break-up with Robert because he _is_ your best friend," she finished knowingly.

"Something like that," Rose muttered, biting her lip and looking down at her feet. "I know it's stupid."

"It's not stupid," Hermione replied immediately, taking a step toward Rose. "But you know, Rose, it's more complicated than that. Were you in love with Robert?"

"I don't know," Rose admitted in a small voice. "I do still love him, in a friend way, but - I don't know. I had a crush on him, before we started going out, but I just…what's it like to really be in love with somebody?"

"If you had been, I wouldn't have to explain it to you," Hermione said kindly. "But it's something more than being best friends, and it's something more than having a crush on somebody, too."

"How did you know you were in love with Dad?" Rose insisted. "Without the details, please."

Hermione bit her lip in thought. "There wasn't really one specific moment," she admitted after a moment's reminiscing. "I started to have feelings for him around the time I was fourteen, and they didn't go away. I was probably seventeen or eighteen before I realized it was something more. I'll tell you what, though, the first time I kissed him, I knew it was going to be my last first kiss."

"Really?" Rose asked, clearly a bit impressed. "How did you know?"

"I just did," Hermione replied, shrugging. "I've never really questioned it. I didn't have to, because I remember every day why it is I love him."

Rose blushed deeply and stared still more intently at her feet. "I never really kissed Robert," she said very quietly. "I mean…I kissed him, but I never _really_ kissed him, and we never did anything…else."

"Oh?" Hermione asked casually. "And why's that?"

"It's not like he ever tried to kiss me at all!" Rose replied, almost defensively. "I don't know, it was just…"

"Weird?" Hermione guessed.

"I don't know," Rose repeated, still refusing to meet Hermione's inquiring eyes.

"Well, I can tell you that kissing your dad was never weird," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Some parts of starting our romantic relationship were a bit strange, yes, but it always felt right."

"Toward the end, I didn't even want to try kissing him," Rose admitted, clearly embarrassed.

"Then perhaps you were always better off as friends," Hermione said gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder. "You can't force these sorts of things, love. Think of it this way; you know your Uncle Harry was one of my best friends in school, and he still is. But we never tried to be anything more, because we simply weren't in love with each other."

"I know," Rose replied, stepping a little closer to Hermione and lifting her eyes a bit. "It's just that I've always wanted to have somebody who knew everything about me, like you and Dad know each other."

"And you will," Hermione said firmly. "Not everyone marries their childhood sweetheart. The right person will want to get to know you, and they'll become your best friend."

"That sounds like more work," Rose said, the smallest trace of a grin upon her mouth.

Hermione laughed good-naturedly. "It won't feel like it, I'm sure."

Rose was quiet for a moment, and she returned her gaze to her feet. "He really wasn't right for me," she said in a small voice. "He's a good friend, a good person, but even the smallest things - I mean, he thought I was wasting my talents on Quidditch, and on the Games and Sports department."

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean, wasting?"

"He's going to be an Unspeakable," Rose explained. "You know he's very intellectual. He always thought I should do something like that, because I'm..well, not to be conceited, but you've seen my marks. He was always going on about how somebody clever like me should be doing something more…I dunno, important or something."

"Well, that's rather rude," Hermione commented, keeping her sudden surge of anger toward the boy under wraps for Rose's sake. "You can do anything you like; it only matters that it's important to you."

"I know," Rose said quickly. "And he knew that, too; it's not like he was trying to stop me. It wasn't as though it was hurtful, not really; he thought he was doing me a favor. But it's just…I want somebody who's going to think whatever I'm doing is brilliant because I'm the one doing it."

"Well, he was right about one thing," Hermione replied as she wrapped her arms around Rose's frame. "You're a very smart girl, Rosie."

"I get it from you, Mum," came Rose's muffled reply as she returned her embrace, and Hermione felt a sense of warmth spread throughout her entire being as she hugged her daughter closer.

"What's going on in here?" came a voice from the door. Hermione shifted her head and saw Ron standing in the doorway, his face and arms predictably bright red from the sun's rays.

"Come over and join in, Dad, you know you want to," Rose replied cheekily. Ron chuckled and crossed the room to put his arms around his wife and daughter.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked as he leaned over to kiss Hermione on the cheek and Rose on the top of the head.

"I love you both, that's all," Rose replied vaguely as she pulled away. "I'll bring the dishes to the table," she offered, waving her wand to levitate the dishes and slowly walking out toward the dining room.

"What was that really about?" Ron asked Hermione once Rose had left the kitchen.

"I'll tell you later," Hermione said distractedly. "Do you want to go collect Hugo from Maggie's? I'd wait for him to Floo himself back, but I have a feeling dinner will have gone cold by the time that happens."

"Sure," Ron agreed, grabbing his wand off the counter and making his way back to the door; the nearest Apparition point was just outside their property line.

"Oh, and Ron?" Hermione added just before he left.

"Yeah?" Ron swung back around to face her expectantly.

"Maybe you want to pick up some burn potion while you're out," Hermione smirked as Ron stuck his tongue out at her petulantly.

A few hours and one pleasant family meal later, Hugo had retired to his room to work on a bit of summer homework, and Rose had left to sleep over at Amy's house. Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had moved into the sitting room, where they'd turned on a television program neither of them were particularly invested in and used the time to discuss their day instead.

"The bloody cream doesn't work," Ron was saying. "It feels cool when you put it on, but you still look like a tomato."

"You do indeed," Hermione noted, poking lightly at his arm. "It's your own fault, though."

"I didn't ask to be born ginger," Ron retorted with a scowl.

"But you didn't put the sun block potion on before you went outside, did you?" Hermione pointed out.

"Details," Ron muttered dismissively, lathering on a second layer of the burn cream as he spoke. "You never told me what was up with Rose, by the way."

"Oh, right. Well, she broke up with Robert," Hermione replied matter-of-factly.

"What? What did the bastard do?" Ron asked, his expression changing to one of a fierce protector faster than Hermione could properly finish her sentence. She kindly refrained from telling him how ridiculous his attempt at looking intimidating was when his face was shining a brighter red than his hair.

"He didn't do anything," Hermione said diplomatically. "They just weren't right for each other, and Rose could see that, so she didn't want it to drag out any longer."

"Oh," Ron said, immediately calming down a bit. "Smart girl, she is. She's alright, then?"

"Yes, I think so. She's not too terribly torn up about it, really," Hermione answered thoughtfully. "She wants to be like us, you know."

"What?" Ron asked bemusedly.

"She wants to be, and I quote, 'so happy that it's gross,' just like us," Hermione clarified, shuffling over a bit on the sofa so that she was snuggled into Ron's side.

Ron snorted. "So what you're saying is we ought to snog in front of her more often."

"Not at all," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Unless you'd like to watch her snog her future husband."

"I'll pass," Ron quipped. "What do you mean though, she wants to be like us?"

"I think she went out with Robert because he was her best friend," Hermione replied carefully, "but it wasn't meant to be anything more than that, in the end."

"Hmm," Ron hummed in acknowledgement. "Well, not everybody gets it right the first time." He put the empty vial of burn potion on the coffee table and wrapped an arm around Hermione.

"We didn't either," Hermione reminded him, but Ron wasn't having it.

"Sure we did, on our first serious relationship, anyway," Ron clarified.

"I don't know that Rose's relationship with Robert was all that serious," Hermione commented thoughtfully. "It lasted awhile, yes, but it sounded more platonic than anything, if you ask me. Not to mention they barely even snogged."

"Good," Ron declared. "My baby girl's too young for snogging, anyway."

"She's nineteen in a couple months," Hermione pointed out with a sigh, though she knew Ron was teasing.

"And she'll meet some bloke that'll love her almost as much as I love you," Ron finished, leaning over and kissing her on the side of the mouth.

"Smooth," Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Though I suppose it's flattering that you still feel the need to use pick-up lines twenty-one years after the wedding."

"Well, you're a desirable woman," Ron said, wiggling his eyebrows in a grand show of flirtation. "You deserve to be romanced."

"Do I, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione teased in her best attempt at a seductive voice. She brought a hand up to play with Ron's hair and distract him from her innate lack of charm.

"You do indeed, Mrs. Weasley," Ron replied, closing the small distance between them to press a lingering kiss to her lips.

"Mm. You make a convincing argument," Hermione said very seriously after they broke apart.

"That means a lot, coming from an expert in law like yourself," Ron quipped. "You're not known to be easily impressed."

"Well, I take only the best," Hermione replied coyly before leaning in and kissing him lightly again.

"Sometimes I wish we were good at flirting," Ron murmured against her lips.

Hermione laughed good-naturedly. "And the other times?"

"Doesn't really matter, does it? S'long as we're together," Ron reasoned. "Though I'll always treasure your attempts at dirty talk."

"Ron!" Hermione admonished, pinching him lightly on the arm. "That wasn't even remotely sexy!"

"Sure it was," Ron replied with a chuckle.

"You couldn't stop laughing!" Hermione moaned. "It was mortifying."

"Nah, it was cute," Ron insisted. "And I love it when you say fuck."

"I don't say that," Hermione protested.

"You did, though," Ron reminded her.

"I have said that word _maybe _three times in my life," Hermione maintained primly. "And only ever in your presence, mind, so I hope you feel quite special."

"Oh, I do," Ron assured her. "If I'm the only living person to ever hear Hermione Weasley _née_ Granger say 'fuck,' then I want for nothing."

"Stop saying it," Hermione scolded, poking him roughly in the stomach. He simply laughed and caught her hand in his.

"Saying what? Fuck? But it's such a fun word to say. Fuckity fuck fuck-"

Hermione then made the executive decision then to cut him off with her mouth, though their kiss only lasted about four seconds before they both dissolved into laughter. It crossed Hermione's mind briefly just how much she enjoyed their tendency to let go and act like teenagers every now and then while they were alone; she supposed it was the result of the times they had to act like adults while they were still teenagers. At any rate, she wouldn't trade these precious moments with her husband for anything in the world.

"I love you," she told him once they'd regained their composure, "and I'm glad we got it right, first time or not."

"Feeling's mutual," Ron replied before he leaned in to kiss her again.

When Hermione had been young, she had found domesticity boring. She had wanted adventure and excitement - though chiefly of the academic sort, of course. She had wanted to take the world by storm. But most of all, she had strived for perfection. Back then, she had thought that it would lie in the realm of achievement - but now, she found she'd never been happier to discover she was wrong. Her work was rewarding, yes, and she was truly proud of the things she'd accomplished in her years at the Ministry. However, all that paled in comparison to her relationship with her husband, to their beautiful children, and to the life they'd created for themselves. It was only here, in her home with the people she loved the most, that Hermione could truly say she'd found perfection.

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A/N: It didn't feel sappy enough, so of course I had to add in the last couple paragraphs. Forgive me.

On a rather personal note - my reasons for writing this are admittedly a bit self-centered. Until last November/December, I was in a 3+ year relationship that was actually much like Rose's - better off as friends, not really in love with one another. So, naturally, I've been meaning to write about some of those feelings. Now, I personally didn't really discuss it in depth with anybody (partially because when I said "we just weren't right for each other," everybody immediately agreed and didn't require further explanation - hmmm, curious), so I had to figure out some of what Hermione was saying for myself. Hopefully, my experiences translated well to a mother/daughter conversation. Thank you for reading what was essentially a diary entry, and I hope you enjoyed it at least a little :)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sooo…I guess it's been more than a month since the last time I updated this story. Sorry about that. I suppose since it's more of a collection of somewhat related one-shots than anything else, I'm forgiven, yes? I hope so. Anyway, thank you for reading :) For reference, this chapter is set about a month after the last. Also, this story will have two more chapters after this one. Oh, and this chapter has about 37,000 sexual references but it's nothing you couldn't see on primetime television, save a few swears.

Disclaimer: Insert clever way of saying J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter here.

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It was a small miracle that Ron found himself leaving the office before three on a Thursday. Although he rarely went out on raids anymore, he still found himself spending egregious amounts of time dealing with the fallout. But today, the office had been quiet, his paperwork was done, and he'd managed to slip out early. He knew neither Hermione nor Rose would be home til after five, so he stopped for groceries on the way home, intent on cooking a surprise dinner for his family.

What with three members of the household employed full-time at the Ministry of Magic, and the last under the impression that snogging his girlfriend was meant to be a full-time job, the Weasleys didn't often get the chance to spend much time together other than over dinner - and even then, it was often hit or miss; one of them might be working late, or Hugo might be at a friend's house. But tonight, they were all set to be home, and Ron was looking forward to having a couple of hours in the evening to simply be with his family.

When he arrived at home a little after four, the fixings for chicken korma in tow, Ron was pleased to notice Hugo's shoes on the mat, indicating that he was already in for the evening. "Hugh!" Ron called up the stairs. "Hugo, I'm home!"

He didn't get a response straight away, but he didn't dwell much on it either: if Hugo was in his room at the end of the upstairs hallway, he wouldn't have been able to hear his call very well. So, Ron first put away the groceries, then arranged his shoes and traveling cloak in the proper places before trudging upstairs to change into something he wouldn't mind cooking in. After fixing on a pair of pajama bottoms and a comfortable cotton t-shirt, he padded down the hallway to check on his son. He didn't bother knocking before he budged the door open - something he would come to regret for a very, very long time.

"Hey, Hugh? I'm home early; thought I'd start on din - oh, BUGGERING, FUCKING…SHIT!" Ron whirled around and slammed the door behind him before Hugo could so much as shout in protest. Ron screwed his eyes shut, but the images of what he'd seen didn't fade - and as much as he'd like to think he'd misunderstood, there were very few explanations for why his son appeared to be quite naked in his bed, hovering on top of somebody that looked very much like Maggie Laven.

"Just make yourselves decent!" Ron barked through the wood of Hugo's door, unwilling to reenter as his son shouted out babbling apologies. "Hugo, we'll talk about this later!"

And with that, he stormed back down the hallway and shut himself in his room, determinedly _not_ thinking about what he had definitely _not _just walked in on. A few moments later, he heard anxious voices and hurried footsteps making their way down the hallway outside, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much. He sat on the bed, but not before grabbing a framed photograph from the bedside table; incidentally, it was a picture of his family that had been taken just before Hugo's first ride aboard the Hogwarts Express. Ron was trying as hard as he could to focus on the image in front of him rather than on the glimpse of what he had seen in his son's bedroom. All the while, his thoughts were jumbled; he couldn't be entirely sure what he was thinking. He didn't move from the spot for some time, and Hugo certainly didn't make any effort to come find him.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, perched on the edge of his bed with a forcedly clear mind, before he heard the front door open downstairs. A few minutes later, Hermione came into their bedroom, a worried crease between her eyebrows.

"Hugo's making dinner," she said by way of greeting as she crossed the room and immediately began to strip out of her work robes. "What's wrong?"

"How did you know something was wrong?" Ron asked wryly, putting the photograph back in its place and turning toward her. Though she was clad in nothing but her underwear, she certainly didn't seem to mind; if he didn't know any better, he'd think that was a smirk playing across her lips.

"Hugo's making dinner," Hermione repeated knowingly, retrieving a pair of trousers and a jumper from her wardrobe and pulling them on. "Now, what's happened?"

"Remember our first time?" Ron asked abruptly.

"Yes," Hermione said, turning toward the mirror and pulling her messily plaited hair out from underneath the collar of her jumper to adjust it. "Obviously."

"Remember how we were right-minded, consenting adults in a loving and serious relationship?" Ron continued with a sigh.

The crease in Hermione's forehead deepened. "What's this about?" she asked, crossing the room again and sitting next to him on their bed.

"I came home early from work today," Ron began slowly, rubbing at his eyes as he spoke. "I went to check in on Hugo, but he had company... And he was starkers. So was she, I assume, though thank _Merlin _I couldn't see as much, and I just…what's the chance they were just cuddling for body heat?"

"Given that it's August, not very high," Hermione replied faintly; her face had gone a bit pale. "I see. And what did you do after you saw?"

"Slammed the door shut, mindlessly shouted something, and came in here to try to burn the image from my retinas," Ron replied promptly. "Figure maybe if I will it hard enough, it won't have happened."

"They're being careful, aren't they?" Hermione interrupted anxiously. "Oh, I do hope they are…"

"Well I didn't bloody ask, did I? I told him I'd talk to him later," Ron replied incredulously. "I just…fucking hell, Hermione, he was having sex. With a _girl_."

"Yes, well, be sure you ask him about protection, please," Hermione requested, a bit of color returning to her face now as she began to process what she'd been told. "I'm not yet old enough to be a grandmum, and given that Hugo's downstairs burning dinner to a crisp, I don't think he's quite ready to be a father, either. And do make sure he's giving her the respect she deserves, too; I've got no doubt he is, of course, but there's no harm reminding him."

"Doesn't this bother you?" Ron cut in disbelievingly.

"Well, a little," Hermione replied honestly. "It's strange, you know, but to be quite honest I had an inkling this would happen sooner rather than later, and once I know they're making good choices about it, I'm quite content to largely be left in the dark about it all."

"But they're sixteen!" Ron bellowed. "They're not even _of age _yet! I mean, Merlin, Hermione, what if I'd shagged the girl I was with when I was sixteen? I'd have always regretted it, I know I would have!"

"Well, first of all, the legal age of consent _is_ sixteen," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "And you have to admit, Ron, their relationship is quite a bit different than the prolonged duel of tongues that was your sixth year. They've been together two years now, for starters."

"That doesn't mean they're in the right frame of mind to know what it is they're doing!" Ron argued.

"I don't like thinking about it anymore than you do, but it really is their decision," Hermione replied calmly. "I just want to know that they're using the charm or the potion. Or both, really, would be best, though I don't suppose they _can_ use the charm when they're not in school…of course, they could probably do so under our roof without being detected, but surely they wouldn't-"

"That's not the point!" Ron pressed on, but Hermione just sighed.

"Think of it this way," she said patiently. "Suppose we'd got together earlier, say at the Yule Ball. Wouldn't you have _perhaps_ wanted to explore the physical side of our relationship a bit earlier? Say, right around the time we were sixteen?"

"Yeah…well…that's different!" Ron sputtered.

"Is it, though?" Hermione insisted.

"I've been properly in love with you since I was fifteen, so yeah!" Ron argued pointedly, but Hermione wasn't having it.

"I have to say, Ron, I imagine we'd have been much the same way if we'd been able to get our act together in a reasonable amount of time," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "So I can't blame him, really, as long as he's being smart about it all. Don't be hypocritical, love, it's not like we waited til we were married."

"We were nineteen, though, and we're _us_," Ron grumbled, but he could tell he was fighting a losing battle. It wasn't that he was a prude, and of course he knew what most sixteen and seventeen year olds tended to get up to…but most sixteen and seventeen year olds weren't his son.

"Just…promise me you'll listen to him when you have your talk," Hermione requested with a small sigh.

"Dunno how you're being so calm about it," Ron muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Yes, well, I knew it was going to happen sooner rather than later," Hermione reasoned. "I would have thought you'd have known it, too."

Ron was quiet for a moment, considering. "Well, I did. I mean, they've been together awhile, but I guess…" he said slowly, "I guess I was always taught to wait, when I was a kid. Not til I was married, necessarily, but til I was, y'know, of age and with somebody special."

"Your parents taught you that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Well, yeah. And we all followed their advice, to the best of my knowledge. Not that I've asked, but it was just one of those things that…we're a bit of a conservative family, aren't we?" Ron replied with a hollow laugh. "I just…it's _Hugh_; seems like just yesterday I was teaching him to ride around on that toy broomstick you hated."

Hermione laughed lightly. "They grow up fast, but we knew they would."

"Still…I'm not ready to have this conversation with him," Ron admitted.

"Well, I can understand that," Hermione replied briskly. "But _he's_ ready, Ron, and we have to respect that he's old enough to make his own choices."

"Sure you don't wanna talk with him?" Ron asked dubiously.

"I think he needs to hear it from his father," Hermione said firmly. "You ought to tell him, you know, about why you want to be sure he's making a good decision."

"I doubt he wants to hear it from me," Ron replied.

"But you, like him, were once a randy sixteen-year-old," Hermione pointed out with a smirk.

"What, and you weren't?" Ron challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"A randy sixteen-year-old _boy_," Hermione corrected herself, leaning in and kissing Ron quickly on the cheek. "Have faith in him, dear. He is _your_ son, after all; if he's turned out anything like you, everything will be just fine."

Despite Hermione's reassurances, dinner was an awkward affair. Hugo, who had managed to successfully avoid burning dinner (though it was still a bit crispy in parts), was determinedly avoiding everyone's eyes, while Hermione made unnaturally pleasant conversation with Ron about their days at the office. Rose, meanwhile, was darting her eyes between her parents and her brother with clearly piqued curiosity, oblivious to what exactly had taken place earlier in the afternoon.

"Let's do the dishes, Rosie," Hermione said as soon as they'd finished eating, cutting across the query that was surely about to spill from their daughter's mouth.

"Erm…wanna step outside for a bit, Hugo?" Ron asked awkwardly once Hermione had ushered Rose out of the room. Both Ron and Hugo were still determined not to look at each other.

"S'pose so," Hugo replied, and they moved wordlessly through the kitchen and out the back door, walking aimlessly until they reached a bench by the garden a safe distance from the house. They sat side by side, with as much distance between them as the bench would allow, each focusing his gaze elsewhere.

"Your mother wants to know if you're being careful," Ron began in an unnaturally high-pitched voice.

"Dad-"

"And so do I," Ron continued, more firmly this time. "Just…I know it's weird, Hugo, but I've got to know that you're-"

"We know the charm. _You_ taught me the charm, and nobody knows we've done magic underage if we're in our houses," Hugo mumbled. Ron chanced a glance in his direction; his cheeks were bright red.

"Good. Well, not the underage magic part, I guess, but there are other…erm…your mum would want me to mention…there's a potion, too, that she…that Maggie could take, and it's a bit safer than the charm, bit less _illegal_, mind you, when you're not at Hogwarts…but both is good, y'know, just in case…" Ron trailed off, gesturing meaninglessly.

"Yeah, I know. She's gone on it," Hugo replied uncomfortably.

"Oh. Okay. Good," Ron let out a sigh of relief. "Okay. And your mum…well, _we_…we want to make sure you're…y'know, treating her right, with respect and all-"

"I'd never make her do something she didn't want to," Hugo cut in fiercely, a bit of hurt in his tone.

"Of course," Ron said hurriedly. "I didn't think you would, of course, but…I'm your dad, y'know, I want to make sure you're respecting her wishes and all that."

"Well, I am," Hugo said shortly. They fell into a deeply uncomfortable silence then, still refusing to look at each other but not moving from the spot.

"I know this is weird," Ron began eventually, when he simply couldn't take the quiet anymore. "I mean, when I was your age I never would have wanted….but like I said, as your dad, I want to make sure you know what you're doing."

"It's pretty straightforward," Hugo quipped, but Ron frowned.

"That's not what I mean and you know it. It's just…okay, obviously girls are brilliant, Hugh. I know what it's like to be sixteen, and I know it's…well, there's a lot going on, and I just want to make sure you don't make any decisions you'll regret later."

"Why would I regret it?" Hugo asked. Though he wasn't one to raise his voice, Ron could detect a bit of anger in his tone.

"I don't know. A lot of reasons, but you might," Ron shot back. "You're sixteen. People do stupid shit when they're sixteen, and I would know!"

"What do you mean?" Hugo retorted guardedly.

Ron heaved a great sigh. "Look, you know your mum's not the only woman I ever went out with, but she _is_ the only woman I've ever been with…in that way," he finished delicately. "And I just…I _know_ I'd have regretted it if I'd slept with somebody else."

"But not everybody's _like_ you and Mum! And besides, how do you know I won't end up with Maggie?" Hugo replied. "What if you and Mum had been dating when you were sixteen?"

"She asked me the same thing," Ron replied with a small chuckle. "You two really are quite alike, you know that?"

"What's your point, Dad?" Hugo insisted.

Ron was silent for a moment, weighing how best to express what he was trying to say. "Look, I know Maggie's special. It's plain as day that the two of you are mad for each other. But the girl I was dating when I was your age…it wasn't like that with us. We barely went out for six months, and by the time she wanted to do anything…_more_, I'd realized she wasn't the one I wanted to be with. When I think about how stupid I was when I was sixteen…I just don't want you to come to regret anything you've done."

"I really do love her," Hugo cut in. "Even if we don't, y'know…get married, or whatever…I wouldn't regret anything about it."

Finally, Ron turned to look at him, and though Hugo appeared quite embarrassed, Ron was almost surprised by the sincerity in his eyes. He thought, not for the first time, how grateful he was that his son had inherited Hermione's sense of maturity. "Good," he said carefully. "Good. I just…I dunno, I don't want you to be rushing into anything. I know you don't want to hear details, Hugh, but I didn't lose mine til I was nineteen. And it's a good job I waited, because I wasn't really _ready_ before then, regardless of what certain bits of me might have thought."

"Well, I think I'm ready," Hugo replied, valiantly ignoring the last part of his father's remarks. "I mean, I know I am. And so's Maggie."

"Well, it's your decision," Ron said fairly, making a mental note to tell Hermione just how civil he was being. "I was a bit shocked to walk in on it; that's all. Just use protection and make sure you respect her. I'm probably never going to _like _it, but I've known you since the minute your mum gave birth to you, so I'd rather you and Rose remained celibate for the rest of your lives, if I'm being honest with myself."

Hugo snorted. "And what about your future grandkids, then? Brought by woodland fairies, is that it?"

"That's what I tell myself about James, Al, and Lily every day. Sometimes it's for the best to be purposefully ignorant," Ron replied solemnly. "Which reminds me - you don't need to use magic to lock your door, mate."

Hugo's cheeks flushed even darker than before. "You could always try knocking!"

"Wouldn't matter if you'd lock your door," Ron retorted in a sing-song voice. "Seriously, that was the first _thing_ Bill told me when he gave me the talk."

"Uncle Bill gave you the talk?" Hugo asked incredulously.

"Well, my dad did it first. But Bill…well, he explained some of the…finer details, if you will," Ron replied with a bit of a fond smile.

"Like?" Hugo pressed, looking far more interested than Ron would have liked him to be.

"Like locking my door," Ron said pointedly. "And, well, some practical advice as well, not that I really remembered much by the time I actually got roundto _using…_"

"You don't remember?" Hugo asked, clearly a little disappointed. At Ron's affronted glance, he added: "What? He did marry a _Veela_, you know!"

"Well, it's not like it's really something you can teach. You sort of learn as you go," Ron replied uncomfortably. "And it'll take awhile, before you really get the hang of…you know what, Hugh, let's not go there."

"Well, I don't want _details_," Hugo said defensively. "I just…I dunno, it's not like any of my mates can give me pointers, seeing as none of them has even _got_ a girlfriend-"

"And at what point in this conversation did it seem like I was eager to give you pointers?" Ron groaned, hanging his head in his hands exasperatedly.

"Well, that's not what I want, exactly," Hugo said hurriedly.

"Look, I'll tell you this much," Ron cut in, eager to end this conversation for the time being. "You love Maggie. Maggie loves you. So yeah, it'll be kind of awkward and embarrassing for awhile, but you'll figure it out. You don't really need anybody's advice as long as you trust each other and are willing to…I dunno…figure it out," he finished, a bit lamely.

"Okay," Hugo said, clearly willing to accept those words of advice with no further complaint. "Thanks, Dad."

"No problem," Ron replied, though he honestly could not remember a more uncomfortable quarter-hour in nearly all his life. "Look, Hugo, just…you're a good kid, you know that?"

"Thanks," Hugo said, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. "And you're…I mean…thanks for not flipping out, you know?"

"I locked myself in my bedroom for what must've been an hour. What part of that makes you think I took it well?" Ron joked. "You're my kid; it was always gonna be tough to watch you grow up. Just…imagine how weird it is for you, to think about me and Mum like that, and then imagine you'd known us since we were in nappies."

"I'd rather not, thanks," Hugo replied, wrinkling his nose in evident disgust.

"Exactly," Ron said emphatically. "Let's go inside, shall we? I've had about enough of this for one day, and we never had pudding."

"Sorted," Hugo agreed, and without further ado, they wandered back inside in search of biscuits.

Several hours later, Ron clambered into bed with a great yawn, and Hermione, who had been reading for the better part of the evening, placed a marker in her book and rolled over on her side to face him. "Are you alright with everything?" she asked knowingly.

"Yeah. They really love each other, apparently," Ron replied with a wry smile.

"I thought as much," Hermione said wisely. "That's why I wasn't really surprised, you know."

"Maybe I was just in denial, then," Ron chuckled with a bit of an eye-roll.

"It may just be a mother's intuition. Your mum wasn't surprised when I told her about us, either," Hermione reasoned.

"When you did _what_?" Ron nearly shot up in bed in shock.

"Oh, honestly. Why does it matter now? We've got two kids; _clearly_ we've lost our virginities somewhere along the line!" Hermione laughed.

"You told my mum about us?" Ron repeated. "Voluntarily?"

"Well, you know how she is! It's hard to hide anything from her; it's like she's going to know if you're lying," Hermione replied defensively. "I told her the day after we'd done it, because I thought I was going to explode otherwise."

Ron laughed in disbelief. "Wow. Y'know, weirdly enough, my thoughts after our first time weren't remotely along the lines of 'I can't wait to tell my mum about this!'"

"Neither were mine," Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly and nudged his arm so that he would wrap it around her shoulders. "But like I said, I think mothers generally know these sorts of things."

"Hmm. S'pose so," Ron admitted. "Oh, did you know Hugo actually asked me for advice after it all?"

"Advice?" Ron could feel Hermione cringe.

"Well, not anything specific. But you remember how awkward it was at first," Ron said reasonably. "Reckon he just wanted to be sure that was normal."

Hermione laughed again. "There _was_ a bit of a learning curve for awhile, wasn't there? You were a bit lost down there, the first couple of times."

"Oi! At least I wasn't taking notes out of _Cosmopolitan Witch_ in my spare time," Ron teased.

"You can't deny that those were helpful!" Hermione protested, swatting at the arm that wasn't embracing her.

"They bloody well were not! The ideas you got out of that rag were by _far_ the most uncomfortable, embarrassing things we could have tried, and it was only _worse_ that early on, considering we didn't have a clue what we were doing anyway," Ron argued, though he could hardly keep from laughing himself.

"So we figured out very quickly what _didn't_ work," Hermione insisted fairly.

"Process of elimination, if you will," Ron quipped.

"Exactly," Hermione replied in a tone that was far more dignified than what the contents of their conversation would generally allow.

"Reckon it's a damn good thing we've only ever been with each other," Ron laughed. "That awkward phase would've been hell with anybody else."

"Mmm, I agree," Hermione replied, leaning upward to kiss him softly on the mouth before settling further into his embrace. "It helps that you're dead sexy, too."

"I always knew you were using me for my body," Ron teased as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

"Yes, well, now that it's been a quarter of a century, I figured it was about time I came clean," Hermione replied playfully.

"You're mad," Ron said appreciatively. "Barking mad."

"Yes, well, you love me anyway, which I suppose makes you a bit barking, yourself," Hermione dismissed.

"And you love me, so the cycle continues," Ron murmured back with a satisfied yawn.

"Stuck with each other," Hermione yawned cheerfully.

"And couldn't be happier about it," Ron finished quietly, a grin spreading across his face as he allowed his eyes to slide shut. His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that, perhaps, he ought to have mentioned to Hugo that as brilliant as shagging was, the act of literally sleeping with somebody could be nearly just as good - and that the ability to do both with the same person for the rest of your life was a sure sign that you'd got it right.

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A/N: I WILL NEVER STOP WITH THE DISGUSTINGLY-CHEESY-TO-THE-POINT-OF-BEING-BORDERLI NE-TERRIBLE FLUFF. SORRY NOT SORRY. When it comes to Ron and Hermione I will always sacrifice quality writing for more snuggle-time and cuteness. Embrace it. They fought a bloody war to get there, after all. Anyway, thank you for reading! Hope it was worth your time. :)


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